


Attolian Skies

by berrone, Blyth3, EddisFargo, gennis124, hippolytas, Kiraly, nebuloz, SpaceJackalope, storieswelove, sweaterboys, woodenwashbucket



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: F/M, Spoilers for Book 6: Return of the Thief (Queen's Thief), and elephants!, and sunrises!, and throwing food!, just your average day of chaos in the court of Attolia, we've got wall climbing!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27868869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berrone/pseuds/berrone, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blyth3/pseuds/Blyth3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/EddisFargo/pseuds/EddisFargo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gennis124/pseuds/gennis124, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hippolytas/pseuds/hippolytas, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebuloz/pseuds/nebuloz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceJackalope/pseuds/SpaceJackalope, https://archiveofourown.org/users/storieswelove/pseuds/storieswelove, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweaterboys/pseuds/sweaterboys, https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodenwashbucket/pseuds/woodenwashbucket
Summary: “Stop! Thief!” a voice called out from somewhere higher up the palace wall.*Attolis and Eddis take the twins on an adventure while long-suffering Costis accompanies them.
Relationships: Attolia | Irene/Eugenides, Eddis | Helen/Sophos, background Kamet/Costis Ormentiedes, implied Eugenides/Costis Ormentiedes
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	Attolian Skies

**Author's Note:**

> This is a round robin fic written by some folks in the [the Queen's Thief discord](https://discord.gg/JYJufae). We, like you, had no idea where this was going till we got there.

“Stop! Thief!” a voice called out from somewhere higher up the palace wall.

“Um,” said the queen of Eddis.

“Oops,” said the king of Attolia and annux over Hephestia’s Peninsula.

“Your _Majesties_ ,” said the long-suffering second-in-command of the Attolian royal guard.

“Who is that yelling?” Eugenides asked, completely ignoring the commotion up above. “I don’t think I recognize him.”

“He’s new,” Costis said. “He’s not used to what being a palace guard, um, involves.”

“May I remind you that we are hanging from the castle walls held up by ropes while carrying not one, but both, heirs to the Attolian throne?” Eddis said.

“Cut the ropes!” the new guard yelled, on cue. There was a general noise of confusion, as well as the sound of at least one other guardsman drawing his sword.

“Decisive young man, isn’t he?” Eugenides said. “Should keep that in mind when it’s time for the next round of promotions.”

“Bleh!” his daughter added from where he carried her on his back.

“Niko, do _not_ cut the ropes!” Costis said. The guards above him abruptly fell quiet and then began to whisper. There was the sound of a sword being resheathed.

“Oh now you’ve done it,” Eugenides said. “Why do you always have to be so _loud_ , Costis?” 

Costis chose not to respond to this baseless accusation.

“I could have been in bed,” Eddis said, “with my family. Sleeping. But no, you decided that the twins—who won’t remember this—needed an adventure.” Hector slept soundly on her back, much less disturbed by all the fuss than his sister was.

Some unlucky guardsman was shoved forward by his squadmates to peer over the wall and deal with the suspicious people below them.

“Costis?” the guard said. “Uh, sir?”

“He’s also new,” Costis said to the monarchs on either side of him. “Yes, it’s me!” he said. “Just, um, a training exercise!” 

Eddis snorted.

“With whom?” said the surprisingly formal guard. Costis looked for help. Eddis shrugged — as much as someone hanging from a rope with a baby strapped to her back could shrug — and Eugenides whistled innocently.

“It’s a secret!” Costis said.

“Bleh!” Eugenia said again, gearing up to start crying.

“Oh no,” Eddis muttered.

“Is that a baby?” the guard said. “Where did you get a baby from?”

“Don’t you miss the days when people unquestioningly obeyed authority?” Eugenides said. 

Costis, again, chose not to respond.

“It’s authorized by the secretary of the archives!” Costis said. “Go ask him if you’re so worried! In the meantime, we are going to stop hanging off the side of the castle on ropes so if you’re going to try and arrest me, please do it at the bottom of the wall.”

“What happens if they do go ask Kamet?” Eddis said.

“Well, he does know I’m out here,” Costis said. “And he’s good under pressure. Also terrifying when woken up in the middle of the night, so.”

“So,” Eugenides agreed. “They will be delayed.”

“So,” Eddis said. “I’m going down now; if you want your son back, you’re welcome to join me. Or you two can hang around here all night.”

They continued their descent. It was warm and the city still hummed with life, a pleasant murmur of wine shop patrons and music, even into the early morning. Not far above the lowest terrace, Eddis glanced over her shoulder and stopped in her tracks, holding tight to the rope.

“Eugenides. What did you tell your wife?”

“The same thing I told you and Costis,” said the king. “That the babies had suffered through too much courtly fuss and that I was going to take them for an adventure. Just a small one.” That Eugenides and his wife may have different ideas of what constituted a small adventure was a matter for them to resolve between themselves.

“And what did you tell your captain of the guard?”

He glanced down and saw Teleus waiting with his arms folded below them.

“Shhh,” he urged his two companions, who were in fact, not speaking. “If Eugenia hears him, she will attract half the palace with her cries.”

Eddis thought Costis may have rolled his eyes. The king persisted in acting like his children’s fascinated adoration of the captain of the royal guard was an aberration he might be able to cure them of.

“Gen, I am far too old to sit through a lecture,” Eddis warned, eyeing the guard captain below. She knew, if pushed too far by Attolis, Teleus would not hold his tongue. She suspected hanging off of the wall with both royal babies in tow might constitute ‘too far.’ “I have suffered through enough of them with Galen and with — with your father.” She swallowed around the tight feeling in her throat. Some days, the grief was as fresh as if the pyre was still burning.

Between the two monarchs, Costis was determinedly silent, staring at his feet planted on the wall as if he might will himself out of existence with the force of his mind. Perhaps a sympathetic god would cut his rope after all, Helen thought.

“Then we will have to get you out of it,” Gen said, wearing the expression that usually meant that he was about to do something hair-raising, like jump across an open atrium. “Follow me, cousin.”

“Gen—” Eddis started.

“Your Majesty—” Costis said the same time.

They both stopped, gasping, as Eugenides pushed lightly off the wall, twisted to the group’s left, and ran sideways along the stones, then swung out of sight around the corner. 

“Your Majesty,” Costis said again, a plea this time. 

“Go on,” Eddis said wearily. “I’ll follow. I am not going to bound along like a goat, though.”

The guard and the queen shuffled sideways on the wall towards the corner. They had to lean left as they went to counter the growing pull from the diagonal rope. When they reached the corner, Costis leaned far enough to peer around and sighed. 

“He’s gone in a window,” he said of the king. “Or at least, that’s where the rope leads.” Costis considered how to negotiate the corner Eugenides had simply leaped around. “If you would stay there a moment, Your Majesty, I’ll stop just the other side of it.” He carefully hooked one heel around the corner and murmured a prayer to his god before heaving himself over. 

Eddis, seeing immediately where this would lead, had descended while Costis prepared and so was below the level of his feet and holding her rope close to the wall when Costis lost his footing and swung like a pendulum back the way they had come. She caught a glimpse of his face as he rolled along the wall, and he looked annoyed enough that she let herself laugh. It was an absurd sight, and if he wasn’t frightened, she saw no reason not to enjoy it. 

Hector, on her back, half-woke to gurgle happily with her while she laughed and settled again when she stopped. 

Above them, Costis shuffled sideways into position to try again. 

“There’s a trick to it, Costis!” The king’s voice floated around the corner, and Costis hissed something unintelligible under his breath. 

On this attempt, Costis moved up the wall a little, so that when he rounded the corner his rope hooked over the king’s rope and caught on it long enough for Costis to find proper footing. Eddis climbed back up, and with his help, managed the corner with a modicum of dignity. Hector seemed to have gone back to sleep. 

Costis looked to the window, then at Eddis, and then back at the window. 

“Go ahead and swear, Costis,” Eddis said. “Hector won’t remember it even if he does wake, and I believe the occasion calls for it.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Costis said, and managed to keep his voice low enough that the soldiers patrolling the walls wouldn’t hear him. 

“Was that Pent, Costis?” Eugenides inquired once Costis was done disentangling himself from the ends of the ropes. “You’ve been expanding your vocabulary again.” 

Costis glared at him. Eugenides smiled back pleasantly. 

“Perhaps you could help my cousin who is Eddis through the window? And no swearing this time, please. We must maintain the dignity of the Guard.”

Costis stood and leaned out the window to reach for Eddis, who was waiting patiently outside. Costis took her hand and pulled her steadily as she pushed off with her feet and swung in. Her landing was much easier than Costis’s had been. Hector barely made a sound on her back. 

It was Eddis, steady now on her feet, who saw the lit candle and the man holding it just behind Eugenides. 

“Can I help you?” Kamet said through gritted teeth. They had climbed through the secretary of the archive’s bedroom window. Eugenides’s grin told Helen that this had been intentional. 

“Kamet! We’re taking a detour. Sorry to bother you at this time of night, but now that you’re up, you can join us.” 

Kamet blinked several times. Costis made a small choking sound and Eddis cleared her throat purposefully. 

Eugenides turned to them both, “What? There’s still plenty of adventure to be had. Kamet needs some excitement anyway. Look at him, wasting away up here in his office. Poor Costis has been neglecting him, spending all his time at work.” 

Costis opened his mouth to protest that his packed schedule was not _his_ fault when Kamet cut him off. 

“Do what you want. Leave me out of it, and let me sleep,” Kamet huffed. 

Eugenides looked at Eddis, who gave him a disapproving look. He looked at Costis, who was busy frowning at the grumpy Kamet. 

Eugenides snapped and strode to the door. But the noise had woken Eugenia, who started to wail loudly. Costis quickly moved to unwrap Eugenia from the king’s back, and passed her to her father. The noise woke Hector, who started to cry as well. Helen unwrapped him too and walked toward Eugenides. The king carefully took his son into the crook of his free arm. Next to their twin, safe in their father’s arms, the two babies quieted down. Helen smiled, thinking of her own baby, sleeping in their room with her husband. Eugenides looked at her and smiled as well, obviously proud of his children. 

As they carefully wrapped the babies onto their backs again, Eddis could hear Costis and Kamet murmuring quietly, but could not make out what they were saying. 

Eugenides straightened. Eugenia was secured, soundly asleep once again.

“Costis! Make up already, we’re ready to go,” he said. Costis pinched the bridge of his nose and Kamet crossed his arms, sighing. Costis shrugged at him apologetically and whispered one last thing. Kamet smiled shyly and Costis leaned in to give him a quick kiss before striding across the room. 

Eugenides waggled his eyebrows at Costis. Costis, long suffering, rolled his eyes. The king smirked in response and opened the door. Costis shook his head fondly and strode through, ignoring Eddis's badly stifled noise of exasperation when Eugenides gave his shoulder a squeeze as he passed. She followed Costis and swatted at the king when he stuck his tongue out at her. Eugenides gave a final salute to Kamet before silently closing the door and following his companions.

Eugenides took the lead again as they made their way through the palace. Twice they had near misses with patrolling guards and once they had to stop to quiet Eugenia's excited babbling. Costis thought distantly that he wasn't paid enough for this. Beside him, Eddis radiated both fondness and exasperation. Privately though, there was nowhere either of them would rather be than galavanting through the palace with their mercurial king.

"Gen," Eddis said, once they had slipped past the palace walls, Eugenides turning them towards the stables. "Not that I don't hold the utmost faith in you, but would you please tell me where we’re going?" Both the king and Costis grinned.

"I had planned to keep it a surprise, but since you asked so nicely.” He turned his head. “Costis, dear, help me with the carriage won't you?" The king waved Costis forward and explained in a low voice while they retrieved a horse and tacked it to a small carriage.

"Today is the spring equinox. It's said — ah, thank you — it is said viewing an Attolian sunrise on the equinox is not only good luck, but one of the more beautiful sights of the natural world." 

Costis exchanged a brief look with Eddis. While it was true that the early sunrises of the lowlands were a sight to behold, he wasn't too sure about them granting luck on specific dates. For once, neither of them felt like needling semantics with the king, and so both let the statement pass unopposed.

"Seeing as we all could use a bit of fresh air," the king continued, crouched and securing the pins on the carriage, "What better than to make the trip as worthwhile as possible with the freshest air Attolia can provide?"

Satisfied, he stood up and dusted his hand on his knee. A smile split the king’s face as he made a show of bowing with a flourish, inviting them to board with his hand. Both of them rolled their eyes and exchanged a look, bowing in turn with faux seriousness. Costis pecked his king on the cheek as he moved past him to climb in, and Eddis ruffled her cousin’s hair in the guise of using his head as a handrail. The king swatted at her in mock offense. Costis clambered into the driver's seat and gave the reins a _snap_ , and they were off. 

The cart bumped and rocked as it made it way down the winding road to the shore. They could have walked — Eugenides had picked across the shorter, rocky path on his own many times, as the Thief of Eddis and as Attolis — but with two babies in tow and one sovereign not sworn to the god of thieves, it would make for slow going, and they would inevitably miss the sunrise. 

When the cart came to a stop at the edge of the road, the king hopped out lightly with his daughter in his arms, and turned helped Eddis down. Costis, seeing where this was headed, entered into an argument with the king. Costis did not want the Eddisians to walk down to the shore on their own. 

“Costis, if you still think Eddis and I cannot protect ourselves, babies or not, I am going to have to reconsider your position.” 

Stone faced, Costis grunted, “Yes, Your Majesty.” 

As they picked their way across the jagged rocks, Gen held onto Helen’s hand so that they might both make their way safely. Eugenia slept soundly again on her father’s back. 

“First time here, Gen?” she asked, eyebrows raised. Even in the still-dark morning, it was clear Eugenides knew where he was headed. 

He looked at her and smiled. “When I used to come to Attolia on my own, I would sometimes come here to watch the sunrise. More difficult to find time now,” he added, voice tinged with a sorrow she understood well. 

Eddis looked out over the water. There was peace in the solitude of dawn — a wave of nostalgia crested and crashed over her as she thought of mornings on the empty roof walks of her palace, with nothing and no one to disturb her but for the distant noise of wood and metal from the training yard. But in Eddis, she would have a clear view of the cresting across the mountains. 

“And are you going to tell me why we’re on a west-facing beach to watch the sunrise?” 

“You’ll see.” 

They continued their walk north, making their way toward a cliff face that Helen could just make out in the faint light of dusk. 

“Come on, hurry up,” Gen said, picking up the pace. He pulled her down a downward sloping path that she had not seen until they were right in front of it, and around a rocky corner until suddenly she was hit with — 

“ _Oh_.” 

The path they had taken from the castle had wound them down and around to the north side of the hill. Once they’d cleared the last of the cliffs, what lay to their rights was mostly flat beach with a perfect view in the distance of the coastal hills of the Tustis Valley. 

“It’s not nearly as impressive as an Eddisian sunrise but it does come close,” he said. 

They stood watching as the tiny sliver of orange crusted the hills and rose into a glowing ball, climbing slowly but steadily into the sky. 

“Thank you, Gen,” she whispered, mesmerized by the sight. He leaned against her as they continued to watch its ascent. 

*

During the return journey, Eddis and Eugenia seemed quiet and content. The king was less quiet, and quite pleased with himself. Hector, on the other hand, was fussing, making it clear that he had enjoyed the journey but now wanted to be home. Costis found himself agreeing. He waited with anticipation and dread to see what ridiculous hoops his king would jump through to avoid detection on the way back in. 

The five of them disembarked from the carriage as the palace walls came into sight. As if to spite his lightly-stepping guard, Attolis walked with as little stealth as Costis could remember seeing. Costis could almost hear his steps. The group was immediately spotted, but the squad on duty raised no alarm. It was Aris and his men, and they had seen stranger sights. They were admitted to the palace as if there were nothing out of the ordinary about a group of monarchs and their heirs walking at dawn into a palace they had no business being out of. Aris’s knowing grin received only a rolled eye from his friend, but he earned a smile from Eugenia. 

As the party continued into the palace, they were accosted by a group of harried-looking attendants. 

“Your Majesty!” cried Ion, who looked both immensely relieved and slightly betrayed. “When you weren’t in your bed—”

“It immediately became a national emergency,” the king said with a sigh. “Ion, can this wait until I’ve had my breakfast?” The king strode past his resigned attendants, and the group continued on through the palace to the terrace where their breakfast had been laid out. 

The king of Sounis looked up as they entered, and he smiled. The queen of Attolia did not deign to do either. From Sounis’s lap, Gitta waved with the help of her father’s hand shaking her tiny wrist. The infant watched her own arm move with mild curiosity. Hector seemed to return the greeting, but he might have been reaching for his mother. The three babies were juggled among the four parents and lieutenant until Sounis could hand his daughter to his wife.

“Someone is hungry,” Sounis said. And indeed, Gitta had begun to fuss as her usual source of breakfast came close to kiss her father on the cheek. 

“I certainly am,” said Eugenides. “Good of you to notice.” He grabbed a fig from Sounis’s plate and sat down to eat, slouching in his chair. He took a large bite. “It’s been a long morning already.”  
  
“Do tell.” Attolia’s voice was icy. Hector looked up from her lap, nonplussed. Eddis took the opportunity to excuse herself to feed her daughter. 

There had to be a reason, Costis reflected, that he ought to be elsewhere, but he couldn’t for the life of him think of one — especially not with the princess still in his arms. Unless Costis missed his guess, Sounis was regretting not following his wife when he had the chance. Glancing between the Attolias, Sounis opened his mouth and closed it again. 

No one else so much as attempted to speak. The king chewed loudly. If Attolia had not been angry at before, she most certainly was now. She had not needed to begin her day with the news of the disturbance caused by her husband’s “small adventure.” She knew what to expect from her husband. One might have thought _he_ would have learned what to expect from _her_. 

The rest of the room remained silent. Costis was still, his eyes shifting between the child in his arms and the door. Sounis quietly moved his plate until he was sure it was far enough that it was beyond her own king’s reach. Wisely, Sounis returned his attention to his breakfast.

Gen started chewing louder.

He did indeed know what to expect from her. The rest of the room knew what to expect from the both of them and they feared for the safety of the tableware.

To their relief, the king spoke before any plates were shattered. “Everyone came back.”

She looked about the room. “So I see.”

“I did tell you.”

“You did.”

The silence resumed. 

Attolia did not press him. Gen could explain himself. He would, eventually. He always did. The cycle of Gen’s nonsense was eternal, and incidents like these always ended well enough. There had been moments in their marriage when Attolia had worried they would not end so well, when the king’s recklessness and her anger had dragged them too near the point of no return. Perhaps this morning came close. Perhaps some plates would be slaughtered yet, but it was not a fight for breakfast. She and Gen had, at some point in their married life, acquired some semblance of self control. 

Gen had not spoken another word. She repeated, “You did tell me,” her tone far lighter this time. She ran her fingers through her son’s hair. Attolis smiled.

The mood on the terrace was still tense. Attolis, who had earlier stolen one of Sounis’s figs, now threw one of his own at the younger king. Sounis looked up.

“I’m giving it back,” Eugenides said. 

Sophos shrugged and ate the fig. “Speaking of giving things back, are you going to make Costis stand there all day holding your daughter?”

All eyes turned to Costis. The lieutenant did his best to indicate, without looking directly at any specific sovereign, that he was in fact perfectly willing to stand there all day carrying the king’s daughter. 

Eugenia chose that moment to begin fussing. She squealed, loud enough that several people flinched, and began pounding Costis’s shoulder with her tiny fists. Costis tried to soothe her, but she only cried harder.

“Your Majesties…” Costis began, looking helplessly between his king and his queen. He didn’t mind being hit, but he worried she might catch her hand on his metal breastplate and hurt herself. 

“I’ll take her, Lieutenant,” someone said from Costis’s right, and the princess’s cries turned to delighted babbling as the captain of the guard, newly arrived onto the terrace with Relius, lifted the baby out of Costis’s arms. However incongruous Teleus looked with a baby on his hip, no one in the palace would dare comment on it. A select few might permit themselves a smile. 

Teleus’s face was stoic as ever when he said, “I’ve just had a word with the guards posted on the wall last night, and I suggest you do the same before you go off duty, Lieutenant. Unless their majesties object?” Teleus looked at the king, as though he expected Eugenides might object simply to be difficult.

But Eugenides only waved his hand and reached for a piece of bread. “Go on, Costis, someone has to explain things to them. Do try to refrain from using your newly acquired vocabulary though, I doubt they’ll appreciate it.” 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Costis said with a sigh. He had plenty of Attolian swears that would do just as well. 

“Costis,” the queen said, as he turned to leave. Costis turned back to face her. “I believe my secretary of the archives wanted to see you.”

Costis thought he probably did. He left, smiling despite himself. Across the room, the corner of Attolia's usually dignified expression ticked up in fondness. 

After a moment of silence the room at large returned to its breakfast. Attolis finished his bread and moved to pour himself a drink — “I’m thirsty after all that,” he remarked, though no one seemed to be listening — and found himself stopped by his wife. She poured his drink for him, elegant as always, and when he opened his mouth to thank her, the arch of her eyebrow stopped him from speaking.

“Eugenides,” she said, very quietly, and a little reproachful.

“Irene,” he replied. At least he had the grace to look sheepish.

Her eyebrow arched a little further, he noticed. He smiled at her. 

“Eugenides,” she said again. “ _Where_ have you been?” 

At least she didn’t sound angry, he thought. Gen supposed the tableware was probably safe. 

“It’s the spring equinox today,” he said. “We watched the sunrise. It was — it was nice.”

“Eloquent,” she teased, but he could see her understand and soften. He loved her. How nice to be reminded why. 

Eugenides took a sip of his drink, then leaned over across his chair — gods, he really did look like a cat, didn’t he? — to rest his head on her shoulder for a moment. “It _was_ nice,” he said, a trace of petulance returning to his voice. 

She did smile at him, then, brief and incredibly fond. “So,” she agreed. She allowed herself a moment of weakness, reaching up to stroke his hair once, twice. “Eat your breakfast.”

“Cruel,” he said — whined, really, her brat of a king — and she didn’t have to suppress a flinch like she might have a few years ago. 

“Perhaps,” she said, serene, and Eugenides grumbled under his breath and attacked his food in earnest. Attolia looked up to find herself meeting Relius’s eye. He had been watching the entire time, she was sure. 

The queen raised an eyebrow at him. He stared back, amused. After a moment she acknowledged it with a nod, and turned to her meal as well. 

The king looked up at her, a twinkle in his eye, and chuckled quietly. Of course he, too, had noticed his exchange with Relius in turn. “My queen,” he said. “You’re blushing.”

“Eat,” said Attolia, “your food.”

Eugenides ate.

*

“It’s tradition,” insisted the queen of Attolia. 

“A remarkably well-hidden tradition, my dear.” 

“I’m sure you’ll find it in all the same books that cover the luckiness of the sunrise on equinoxes.”

The king laughed, looking far, far up at his wife’s smiling eyes. “Is Tiamath ready for me, then?” he asked, more quietly. 

The Mede woman at the king’s side flashed her teeth. “The secretary of the archives took Tiamath out for the evening, my king. Sitturi has been saddled for you.” 

Of their three elephants, Tiamath was the most docile. Khnum, already carrying the queen and her children, was the biggest. Gen was hardly displeased; Sitturi was his favorite. She had _personality_ — she had once stolen oranges from Teleus’s pocket, and again on a regular basis until he learned to put his snacks in a more secure pocket. 

“I thought you were trying to keep her separated from Khnum?” The king asked, following Eshtar, their Mistress of the Elephants, further into the dim courtyard, where Sitturi had been partially hidden by Khnum’s bulk. 

She snorted. “We discovered we were a bit late. She is to have a calf.”

His jaw dropped. An elephant, born on Attolian soil. “How soon?” 

“Not this spring, you understand, but the one after. Perhaps late winter, if she’s on the early side.” Eshtar caught his expression and laughed. “Think how much time it takes Ne Malia to spin our babies on her wheel. Now think how big an elephant is. We learned to be patient, in the elephant corps.” 

They both swung onto Sitturi’s back as she knelt, Eshtar ahead with the fringed cane used to tickle directions to the beast, and followed Khnum as Eshtar’s subordinate urged him out of the yard. The twins had just begun trying to walk, and so the elephant handlers had suggested Attolia ride with them using the hawdaj, a more enclosed saddle. If the children proved too squirmy they could always go back to bundling them up, but the queen privately felt it would be a shame to have years in which they were too mobile to be held and too small to be trusted to ride the elephants. Hopefully, they would inherit their self-discipline from their mother.

She looked over at her husband, carrying on an animated conversation with Eshtar. Eugenia followed her mother’s gaze, lightly clapping her chubby hands together, cooing at the sight of her father’s elephant. Hector, for his part, was playing with a loose end of ornamental ribbon on their handler’s jacket. The man, noticing a tug, looked over his shoulder and adjusted the ribbon to give Hector more slack. 

The ride was not long. They arrived at the sandy cove where the royal family sometimes swam, where Attolia was amused to discover the third elephant, Tiamath, already there. Further ahead in the ocean, Kamet lay on his back, Costis’s arms under his waist. 

“We will picnic on the near side,” Attolia said, “so we will not disturb them.” The handler who rode with them let loose what might have been a giggle. “We are known for fading into the background,” she murmured, “elephants and monarchs.” The handler laughed outright.

When Eugenides dismounted, he came to Khnum’s side and accepted Hector while Irene slipped down with Eugenia on her hip. “We’re going to be grandparents, did you hear?” he asked, eyes sparkling. Attolia briefly made a face, patting Khnum’s side affectionately. 

“You didn’t stop to think about where we’ll put an elephant bassinet, did you, dear?”

“I assure you I had nothing to do with it, my queen.” Attolia looked at him with almost naked amusement, and he flushed, understanding. He said, “Your Mistress of Elephants thinks we shall manage.” 

Eugenides put his right arm around her waist, and the family waded into the water, parents helping the twins stand upright in the low surf. The babies gurgled with delight. They would grow up swimming and riding and having all the adventures Irene had never had, while protected in a way she’d never been. She scooped up Eugenia and waded to her waist, light dress soaked. Gen offered to take both twins so that she could swim fully, but she declined happily. The point was being together, tonight. He put Hector on his shoulders and joined her. 

“What does it signify?” he asked, after a quiet interlude. At her puzzled face, he added, “You said it is traditional to swim on the summer solstice.”

“In the old days, before the invaders, they used to have a great festival, and comely youths and maidens would playact a marriage with the sea. It all had something to do with pacifying Oceanus in advance of the storm season. The last time they held the festival was in my grandmother’s grandmother’s day, but we still swim.” She shrugged. “It signifies hope, I suppose. I do not believe the _god_ is swayed by a pretty face.” Eugenides smiled, and she leaned into his side, overcome with affection. The sun was beginning its descent, but the sky had not yet turned to pinks and purples and there was time left on this longest day to enjoy the afternoon with her family. 

Gen kissed her temple and her cheek. “This is an excellent adventure, my queen.” She blushed to be so exposed, but kissed him back and looked out at the deep water. 

Some things in life, she thought, she’d gotten exactly right.

(This was not the foremost thought in her mind when Sitturi trundled from the ocean to the shore and playfully sprayed the handler with a trunkful of water, soaking the queen instead, but she thought it again as she fell asleep that night, husband by her side, and that was what really counted.) 

**Author's Note:**

> Dropping a link again to the [Queen's Thief discord](https://discord.gg/JYJufae) for anyone who wants to join!


End file.
